


Regret

by Kazaha_87



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Angst, Comforting, Feelings, For once angst is NOT Yuuri related, Gen, One Shot, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazaha_87/pseuds/Kazaha_87
Summary: “Can’t sleep?” the man asked still giving him the shoulder and with no trace of wanting to turn to look at him. Instead, he slowly raised his gaze from the flowers to the black sky.“More or less”, Wolfram stayed vague, and, to his reply, he heard the other heave a sigh.“It won’t go away.”Wolfram froze, and the other continued, still looking at the sky and giving him his back.“The guilt. And that sense of uselessness. But you have to go on. And you have to accept that your powers are a gift, and not a curse. You saved a lot of lives that day, but you are a living creature and not a god. You have limits. The most that you can do is to be willing to help at the best of your abilities. And you already do this, every day of your life.It won’t be enough to sooth that sense of inadequacy, but that’s all that you can do. And the best thing that you can decide to do now is to live, for yourself, for the people who love you, and for those you couldn’t save.”





	Regret

Wolfram woke up again in a cold sweat, screaming and panting in the middle of the night.

After the third time, he had decided to momentarily go back to his old chambers in consideration of Yuuri’s sleep. Because he didn’t want to worry him more than necessary.

And because he hated to be pitied.

He had hoped to solve that problem in a couple of days, but now it was two weeks already, and Yuuri was starting to worry and to ask questions.

His fiancé had tried to talk to him. With him. But he didn’t feel like talking at all.

Not that the Maoh didn’t know what had happened on his last patrol – of the arson of the human village at the east border, caused by humans who held a grudge against mazoku and mazokuphiles like often happened in the old days when Yuuri first appeared in their world or before then – but he didn’t want to feel pitied. He didn’t want to hear the ‘right words’ coming from him – the dreamer, the optimist. Because it was so nice, and it felt good, to share the dream – the Great Vision – but then reality always comes back to hit you right where it hurts. And that was one of those times…

It had been a carnage, and he and his men – all fire-wielders – just could do nothing.

…if only Yuuri was with them… or Gwendal, or one of his brother’s earth-wielder men…

He looked at his hands and still saw, lying there into his arms, the burned corpse of that child whom he had tried to save and failed. He could still feel his weight linger there now. The smell of burnt flesh.

And, as a fire-wielder, he had come out of that inferno unharmed.

He felt guilty…

He felt useless, and again it was a jump back in time, when he had been feeling useless on a daily basis.

And he hated it. Or better: he hated feeling like that, and he hated himself for feeling like that. Because his prideful attitude had always been a façade, a not-so-prideful way to blame others for his dearth.

And he knew it! But he had survived to the world thinking and acting like that for more than eighty years: even if the last decade at Yuuri’s side had changed him a lot, he couldn’t really change himself completely. Because he was happy to be grown, but he would have never negated himself. Not even for Yuuri. He could smooth the sharp edges of his difficult personality – because, whatever people could say of him, he recognized his own limits – but that was all that he was ready to give.

He tried to go back to sleep, but like last night, and the night before that, he failed.

After what seemed like an eternity, then, this time he decided to go and get some fresh air for a change.

He opened the large balcony door and distractedly glanced at the garden below, when his eyes drifted down to the shape of a person sat on the flowerbed side, watching at the moon.

He pondered for a moment if catching his attention or just going back inside when the man below turned towards there and silently waved at him.

It was dark, but Wolfram was sure that he was smiling at him.

Slightly hesitant, he waved back.

They looked at each other for a long instant, until the dark figure below silently beckoned at him to join him down there; and no matter how perplexed about the request, Wolfram obliged. By the way, he chose a secondary door to go outside since he didn’t want to let the whole castle know – and Yuuri in particular – that he had roamed around at night – he, who was famous for sleeping like a rock.

He approached the dark figure from behind, but when he noticed the man gently caress a beautiful Wolfram in the flowerbed he stopped dead, his breath caught in his throat as if that hand was touching him instead of the flower.

“Can’t sleep?” the man asked still giving him the shoulder and with no trace of wanting to turn to look at him. Instead, he slowly raised his gaze from the flowers to the black sky.

“More or less”, he stayed vague, and, to his reply, he heard the other heave a sigh.

“It won’t go away.”

Wolfram froze, and the other continued, still looking at the sky and giving him his back.

“The guilt. And that sense of uselessness. But you have to go on. And you have to accept that your powers are a gift, and not a curse. You saved a lot of lives that day, but you are a living creature and not a god. You have limits. The most that you can do is to be willing to help at the best of your abilities. And you already do this, every day of your life.  
It won’t be enough to sooth that sense of inadequacy, but that’s all that you can do. And the best thing that you can decide to do now is to live, for yourself, for the people who love you, and for those you couldn’t save.”

Words died in his throat and tears filled his eyes before he could notice or stop them.

He lowered his gaze, glancing but not seeing the ground at his feet, and he didn’t notice the man approaching him until he touched him, caressing his cheek with the same carefulness and gentleness with which he had seen him touch the flower earlier.

“Cry, child. Cry as much as you need, and then go on. Forget the envy for who’s more powerful than you and just live your life the best you can. You’re better and worthier than you think you are. Believe me: I lived enough to tell.” And, with those words and another heavy sigh, the sage walked away, leaving him alone in the garden to think at his words and to cry his eyes dry.


End file.
